This I Promise You
by SpookyMormonHellDream
Summary: Modern One-Shot, E/C. Summary: Looking back on the shared fears and triumphs of the lovers, on how their family has grown and their lives have gone forward, it would be impossible not to see the love that they hold onto together is enduring. Special Valentine's Day sequel to, final installment of, and within the same 'verse as "To the Stars," "Moon Dance," and "Never Again."


**Author's Note:** _Happy Valentine's Day everyone! With much love from Spoopy, I hope that y'all enjoy this final installment of life with Erik Blanchard and family! :D This story's title comes from the Nsync song (don't judge me) of the same name, written by Richard Marx. Have fun, y'all! _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

This I Promise You

Valentine's Day, 2019 - New York City

Christine Daae

We hadn't initially planned to go out driving again tonight. In fact, by the time we'd made our decision to go all the way toward Central Park - really, by the time we'd fully determined that we wanted to get out of the car and walk the grounds at all - we had _already_ spent a great deal of our day away from the apartment, time that was mostly spent running the few errands that we'd had leftover from earlier in the week. But even long after we'd returned to the apartment for the afternoon, the baby had remained restless, and since she'd recently taken up the habit of only settling down if we drove her around the neighborhood surrounding our building, we'd had no choice but to indulge her today as well.

After a while of being bundled up in the backseat, lulled into calmness steadily by the sound of our voices as we'd talked easily back and forth, she was content once again. But by that point, Erik and I had abandoned any and all ideas that we might have otherwise harbored about getting to relax uninterrupted at home for the remainder of the day. That opportunity was long-gone; by then, we were wide awake ourselves, far from the notion of dozing around our home for the rest of the evening, as we would've done under other circumstances. Parenthood, though, had long since taught us to never get too attached to any of the plans we'd made - more often than not, we would find ourselves having to adjust for the singular most important person in our shared lives. But honestly, that arrangement was more than acceptable even so.

Our Emily had decided that she'd wanted to be born considerably earlier than her due date last summer, and she had given us quite a scare in the process. Her dramatic entrance into the world - the long nights spent with her in the NICU, so many times spent worrying over her and cheering her on in equal measure - had resulted in the significant altering of everything that we'd previously known, and our lives figured around her accordingly ever since. From the moment our daughter was born, it seemed that Erik and I immediately shifted our focus to her, had shifted our priorities and our goals in turn for the sake of seeing to her best interest - in so many ways, she'd changed us for the better, just as anticipating her arrival during this time last year had taught us so many lessons that we wouldn't have known we needed to learn, starting from the time I'd announced my pregnancy to the day of her birth.

Reflecting on those not-so far off days now, as the three of us travelled through Central Park - a regular tradition for Erik and myself to observe at the bigger holidays, Christmas, New Year's and such, and now adding Valentine's Day, eager this spur-of-the-moment night to bring Emily for _her_ first Valentine's - I couldn't help but think about just _how_ _much_ had changed in only a year, on how dramatically my life had been set in motion in the small handful of years that I'd known Erik. Before our lonely paths had crossed and then entwined, I was relatively alone in all that I did, without my own family and always feeling like a burden to the friends that had offered to include me with their own comings and goings. It was difficult for me to take them up on those offers, regardless of how genuinely they were conveyed, regardless of how much I appreciated their thoughtfulness. In my mind, it simply wasn't the same for me, and not worth the effort of trying - not since Dad died, since I'd first attempted to start over and focus on the future, though never able for long before my past sadnesses returned in full force.

But since then, so much _has_ changed for the better, and I would never forget that.

So as we'd walked our easy pace through Central Park tonight, winding our way around the familiar scene before turning back to go home, I counted my blessings all the while. I silently recounted them to myself even as I pushed the green and blue jungle-themed stroller along the heavily traveled sidewalks, fussing over the rear-facing car seat affixed high up on the stroller's frame as I made sure once again that my sleeping daughter wasn't bothered by the sharp chill in the air. Of course, Emily stayed fast asleep, pacifier secured in her tiny mouth, each time that I'd checked on her, and Erik and I chatted idly as I did so, discussing our upcoming plans, recalling recent things happening in our lives, whatever seemed of importance to address then. The park was crowded, but no more than it would be on any other night in the city; the greater numbers of couples celebrating Valentine's Day was the only noticeable difference. A few people glanced in Erik's direction as they passed us by, seemingly unprepared, or perhaps even unsettled by the appearance of such a tall man in a mask - but while he was bothered by the expected rudeness and curiosity of these strangers, he had still made a point to maintain his composure, largely for Emily's sake and mine as much as his own.

Altogether, though, were just happy to have this time at one another's side, to be out enjoying the city that had seen us fall in love. Beyond the occasional visits to friends from work to wish them well for the holidays back in December, along with a short brunch with Raoul and his new fiancée a few weeks ago, Erik and I hadn't wandered very far from home often during the preceding months. Rather, we had been enjoying the time spent becoming a family - and anyway, I wouldn't be returning to the Met until this coming spring at the earliest, and Erik had taken some time off from there himself after Thanksgiving, simply for the sake of enjoying our baby's first Christmas and New Year together. As such, he'd admitted to getting spoiled by the time at home; we weren't eager to change that peace, revelling in it whenever we could instead.

This was new to him, really - belonging to a family, feeling the sense of companionship that we'd forged from the beginning of our own relationship, all of the little things that painted an ordinary home for a couple and their child had proven to be an entirely foreign concept for him. Belonging was a right that was robbed of him by his neglectful parents, simply because he had not been born perfect in their eyes. And, it seemed, that accidental imperfection was something they still held against him, regardless of his lack of control over his unfortunate fate. His parents were told early on about Emily - and their response was to push for termination. I was appalled by the thought, Erik was once again heartbroken by his family, and from there he'd hung up the phone and adamantly refused to return their calls, metaphorically turning away from them and never looking back. Afterward, I could never understand their cruel dismissal of their only son and grandchild, nor did I think that I ever would. Whenever I'd looked at Erik's bare face now - and although I'm ashamed to say that this wasn't so that first time at all - I was able to see past the deformity. I knew _him_, I had fallen in love with him, and that was all that mattered in the end.

But that form of acceptance, of _normalcy_, was a battle hard-won for him, and one that was never very far from his mind. Rather, it had consistently accentuated how different our life together was from the life he'd known as he grew up - from the life that had made him so terrified of what might happen if he had inadvertently passed his deformity on to our daughter. Ultimately, that wasn't the case - the traits that she _had_ gotten from her father had all been innocuous, even charming, much to his relief - but it certainly didn't escape my notice that just over a year ago, we'd spent a significant part of our Christmas Eve fighting and worrying, with me trying so hard to convince Erik that I would _absolutely_ love a child that we created simply for that reason alone, regardless of anything that might go wrong. He hadn't run away that night, nor had he suggested after the fact that his doing so would be for the best, but still, I was already beginning to show before he was finally able to accept the pregnancy for what it was, and to remember all of the reasons behind his promise that I would never be alone again.

Walking beside him now in the heart of Central Park - walking with the living proof of his promise to me bundled up in her winter gear before us, and as Erik reached out lovingly to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear - I was grateful for his commitment, his willingness to let go of his own fear and move forward with me.

~~oOo~~

Cohabitation suited us - initially, living together made the most sense because of the baby, and my moving into Erik's apartment early on in my pregnancy meant less hassle later down the line. We'd still loved each other, of course, but there was a lot to be said about being practical as well. But we hadn't been living together for very long before we came to the mutual realization that this was most likely where our relationship would have taken us anyway, had its original trajectory remained intact. This was simply the next step of so many more to come that any other couple would have taken together - we just happened to get pregnant first, throwing off the order of the usual process just a bit.

Tonight's arrangement within our household, in the spirit of the forward trajectory of our relationship, was very much the same as it had been since we'd first brought Emily home from the hospital in the summer - we would settle her in for the night, usually starting by laying her in the bouncer that we kept in the living room and turning the lights and the ambient music from the radio down low, hoping that our efforts would encourage her to go to sleep and to remain asleep when we would eventually move her to the pack-n-play in the bedroom, especially now that her sleep schedule was getting more predictable. Erik and I would sit alongside one another all the while, usually picking up on whatever conversation we'd needed to put on hold before coming back into the apartment, resuming our talk instead in hushed tones.

However, there was a noticeable difference in the air tonight, though I couldn't pinpoint exactly _what_ that difference was. We hadn't deviated from our routine, at least as far as Emily was concerned, and her routine made up the majority of our own, after all; once we'd returned from our impromptu walk through Central Park, once the car was secured in the parking garage downstairs and we had hauled all of the baby-gear back into our building, we went on to feed the baby, to see to whatever tasks needed to be dealt with, and so on until we more or less finished up completely. Emily was fed, had gotten her bath, had been bundled up again in the little heart pajamas that I'd recently gotten her to wear today, and everything had gone smoothly. But as Erik and I shared the work, there were a few times that I would very, _very_ briefly become aware of how casual he was attempting to act with me, how noncommittal his few contributions to our conversations were, as if he was trying to keep himself from saying too much, from saying the wrong thing entirely. It was out of character for him, something that he hadn't done to quite this extent since early after we'd become a couple; and yet just as quickly as I would sense that odd change in his behavior, the moment would pass in the same instant, leaving me to wonder if I'd really seen anything at all.

It wasn't until we'd declared ourselves successful in completing our constantly-evolving to-do list for the night that he'd seemed to ease off the control he was keeping over himself, and only then did that restless energy, the anticipation that he was carrying, return to stay.

"Happy Valentine's, doll," Erik said a short time after I'd made note of his behavior again, after we'd both settled in the living room, with Erik sitting down on the floor in front of Emily in her bouncer as I lounged on the couch.

"Are you feeling impatient?" I mused jokingly from my spot, "I thought we weren't doing anything until she'd gone to sleep for the night."

"What do you think, Em? Is now the right time?" he asked Emily, clearly not expecting an actual response from the baby, yet he'd smiled as she babbled her baby-talk to herself, as if she were really participating in this conversation. At that, Erik nodded, "Good, I think so, too. Where did you put it, then?"

I laughed, rising confusion mingled with my curiosity now, and asked, "What in the world are you talking about?"

Erik glanced up at me, eyes brighter than usual with whatever secret he was keeping from me then, before he reached behind the bouncer, to a spot that I couldn't quite see from my vantage point. When his hand came into view again, he was holding a distinctive velvet box out in front of me as he'd leaned in closer. And I made the connection immediately, the very moment that he responded, his voice growing softer now, seeming to reveal a shade of nervousness that wasn't entirely there before, "I'm talking about this."

_This_...an engagement ring, to be exact, so formal, distinctly unlike the little sapphire ring that he gave me for our first Christmas together. And though his outwardly casual words hadn't initially betrayed the significance of what _this_ was, somehow I knew what he was holding before he had even opened the box, presenting it to me in the traditional style as he knelt in front of me properly; I knew what it was, and yet I couldn't stop the tears that blurred my vision at the sight.

Up until this point, our commitment to one another had defined itself. We had Emily, we lived under the same roof, shared the same ambitions for our daughter and for the life we were sharing as we moved forward. But the specific question of marriage had never been brought up in any formal, concrete sense. For my part, this lack of discussion on that front was intentional, solely because I hadn't wanted Erik to become overwhelmed by everything that was happening; one life-altering event at a time seemed like the most responsible approach, and I was fine with that arrangement as it was now. For Erik's part, I suspected that he hadn't broached the subject because, regardless of all of the evidence to the contrary, a part of him still believed that I would reject his proposal, that I'd reject _any_ voiced notion that began to lean in that direction in the first place. Once again, his fears had taken ahold of his better judgement, and while I didn't hold that against him, knowing that unlearning a lifetime of pain and abandonment wasn't going to happen for him overnight, I had to admit that I was relieved that he was doing this now, unprompted and clearly well-considered.

He wanted this as much as I did.

Realizing that powerful truth, I smiled, laughing through my tears, "Erik, I - "

" - Wait," he said quickly, though not unkindly, and I noticed then the slight tremor that had appeared in his hands, "Let me say this now, while I still can."

"Of course," I said, smiling as I moved to sit in front of him on the floor, glancing at Emily dozing off in her bouncer before I turned my full attention back to Erik.

This time, he laughed, looking downward for an instant as he composed himself, his heavy French accent returning forcefully at that moment in his distraction when he spoke again, "I'd _thought_ that I had this all planned out so perfectly," he smiled again at that, then continued in a more measured tone, "Christine, you are everything to me, the whole world. You've given me so much. Your love, and our daughter, you've given me _everything_, and I have loved you for so long. But I haven't always been fair," he said evenly, halting my intended protests gently before explaining, "I know that I scared you badly last year, that you thought you'd be alone with this, with Em...But I promised you forever then, that night, and I mean that now. I've meant it every day that I've known you, before I even knew it," he said, his voice softening as he took my left hand, carefully sliding the diamond ring into place with a simple, "Will you marry me?"

My _yes_ was immediate, absolutely exuberant, repeated several times over in the wake of his initial disbelief, and in the following breath I'd found myself moving into his embrace, each of us uncaring of the awkward position it took to share the lingering kiss that had followed his proposal. We just lost ourselves in it, lost ourselves in whispered words of gratitude, of love, of hopefulness - everything that we'd both been so sure was impossible only years before now.

Emily began to fuss then, our ecstatic voices disrupting her doze, and Erik was able to turn to tend to her first, unbuckling her from the bouncer and holding her up on his shoulder.

"It's alright, my love," he whispered as she settled down, shifting her carefully to hold her between us as he said brightly, "She said yes, Emily," and then to me, "I'm so glad you said yes, Christine. I can't say how much."

"I'm so glad you asked," I responded, brushing the remaining tears from my eyes.

"_Finally_, right?"

"Right," I laughed again, smiling at my fiancé, meeting his eyes before leaning down to kiss our sweet, beautiful little baby daughter, nuzzling her hair, her tiny face, still as amazed by her as I had been from the start.

It might seem absurd to reflect upon later, perhaps after more years have passed in this contentment, but even so, I knew then that I couldn't have imagined a better life than what Erik and I had now, what we were building together. By then, I couldn't say with certainty - or no more than anyone could, at the very least - what else was waiting in store for us after this night, after this incredible milestone. I only knew that I was looking forward to the coming years with more enthusiasm than I'd possessed regarding the future not even three years before this; I truly was looking forward to moving onward with Erik and Emily, my own beautiful family, and whomever else came along later down the line. We had each other, in the meantime, and that wasn't going to change - that was all that mattered.


End file.
